Okay, curiosity could have been part of it, but she'd never before given in to curiosity. It couldn't be rebellion. Nobody had put any restraints on her. She was a grown woman, free to do as she wished.
She hadn't been trying to attract Owen or encourage him. If that had been her aim, this could have happened the very day she'd met him. That left only one possibility.
She had wanted it to happen.
She looked over at Owen sleeping in his bedroll only a few feet away. Was she so strongly attracted to him that she couldn't have resisted? Maybe, but she didn't think so. She was certain she hadn't done it in hopes of getting him to marry her. Neither one of them wanted that. Was she testing to see if what he said could exist between a man and woman was true?
It was probably a little bit of everything. Owen had changed the way she looked at the relationship between a man and a woman. She was no longer afraid of his physical presence. And with the loss of fear had come a feeling--no, a certainty--that there was something she'd missed. She'd wanted to know what it was.
Though her curiosity hadn't been fully satisfied, she didn't want Owen to think he owed her anything, that he had to do it again. She intended to be the one to decide if she wanted things to change.
"Myrl thinks we ought to make the house bigger," Owen said to Hetta as they entered the kitchen. Ben had provided the table they used for meals, Myrl the chairs, dishes, and eating utensils, saying he was spending so much time on the ranch, he didn't need those things in town.
"What for?" Hetta asked.
"He thinks we all ought to move out here. It would save a lot of time traveling back and forth."
"I said, might as well build us a bunkhouse," Myrl contradicted. "I didn't say nothing about moving into no house with a woman."
"Myrl's afraid some female will trick him into marrying her," Ben said.
"Ain't no female in her right mind going to marry me," Myrl said. "Now, if it was young Ben or Owen we was talking about, that'd be a different story."
"Ain't nobody looking to marry a cripple," Ben said, "so that leaves Owen." He winked at Hetta. "It wouldn't surprise me none to find out he's helping you with your ranch just so he can keep away from the women chasing after him."
"Any woman who marries a man just for his looks and money deserves all the unhappiness she gets," Owen said.
"I don't think she'd be unhappy if the man was rich and good-looking enough," Ben said.
"Hell, no," Myrl added. "If you're rich enough, nothing matters as long as you're not so ugly you scare the children."
"I'll probably have women making all kinds of excuses to come visit me once the house is done," Hetta said.
"My ma says there's at least a dozen gals who've had their eye on Owen ever since he came to town," Ben said. "She says they were standoffish at first, but now they're trying to figure out how to pry him away from you."
"Me!"
"Who else has he been hanging around?" Ben asked.
"He isn't hanging around me."
"I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion," Owen said, taking his place at the table, "but I'm hungry. I've got a big pile of stones to shape this afternoon, and I need food if I'm going to do it."
"Those women would be more than happy to feed you," Ben said. He turned to Hetta. "Ma says there'll be so many, you won't have to do any more cooking."
"Don't go discouraging Hetta just yet," Myrl said, an anxious frown on his face. "If they're trying to catch Owen, they won't be looking to feed us."
"Don't worry," Hetta said. "I'll see you're fed even if every single woman within fifty miles shows up."
"I don't think there'll be that many," Ben said, "but we got one coming now."
Owen didn't even glance up. "Send her home."
"Don't you even want to know what she looks like?"
"Nope. Pass the beans. This ham smells mighty good."
She passed the ham to Owen but couldn't take her eyes off the approaching visitor. No woman had ever come out to the ranch on a social visit. She was curious who it could be.
And irritated. This was her ranch, her territory. No one should come without an invitation. In the past she'd have welcomed virtually all visitors, but she didn't intend to let any woman use her ranch to prey on Owen. Or Ben or Myrl. Nobody had appreciated them before. Now that they'd proven themselves, she meant to see that any woman who wanted to marry one of them was worthy. She intended to protect her men.
Protect her men!
When had she started to feel like that? They were adults, fully capable of taking care of themselves. Maybe. Ben was a nice young man, handsome, cheerful most of the time, and a hard worker, but he thought of himself as a cripple. He could be very successful in the right profession. He could also be practically enslaved by some unscrupulous female.
Myrl needed his freedom. Marriage would make him miserable.
Then there was Owen. Even though he seemed a confirmed bachelor, one who would visit many flowers but pick none, she couldn't help feeling he was in more danger than the others. He wouldn't have built up such a formidable defense if not to protect a weakness.
But she didn't have to worry about the men just yet. The woman pulling up in the buggy was Ida.
"You've got to return to town immediately," Ida said the moment Hetta approached the buggy. "It's a matter of life and death."
Chapter Twenty-three
"William is going crazy worrying about you," Ida said. "I'm afraid he'll lose his mind."
Hetta couldn't imagine why William would worry about her so much that it would threaten the balance of his mind. She'd been too involved in rebuilding her house to wonder whether he was disappointed that she had broken off their engagement. But it was clear that Ida was upset. Hetta had never seen her so flushed and agitated. What a ridiculous circle--William worrying about Hetta and Ida worrying about William. Hetta felt almost guilty for not having worried more about either of them.
"Come out of the sun," Hetta said, drawing Ida toward the unfinished house. "You shouldn't have come out in the heat of the day."
"I couldn't put it off any longer," Ida said.
Hetta glanced at the three men sitting around the table. From the looks on their faces, not one of them believed William could be as upset as Ida said. Hetta hoped they wouldn't say so.
"It's about time we got back to work," Owen said, getting to his feet.
Hetta knew Ida was profoundly upset when after watching the three men move off, Ben limping and Myrl moving awkwardly because of his mistreated body, she didn't make a comment about Hetta depending on a stranger and two broken-down cowboys.
"William would be upset with me if he knew I'd come."
"Okay, what's going on?" Hetta asked. She drew Ida toward the table and offered her a cup of coffee, which she refused.
"He's pining after you. You should see him. Even his mother is worried about him."
Though he'd never been sick a day in his life, Mrs. Tidwell was convinced that William's health was so fragile he might be struck down at any moment.
"Is he not eating? Is he slighting his work?" Hetta asked.
"William would let his health suffer before he would shirk so much as the smallest responsibility," Ida said, obviously indignant that Hetta would even suggest such a possibility.
Hetta had no trouble believing that. The hardware store had always come first. "Everybody knows that," she said. "It's one of the things I most liked about him."
"He says you told him you're not in love with him, that marrying him would be a big mistake for both of you."
"That's right."
"How can you say that?" Ida asked with an intensity that startled Hetta. "There's not a woman in all of Pinto Junction he admires more than you."
Maybe that had been their problem. They both thought admiration and respect were enough. But that had been before Owen arrived in Pinto Junction.
"William has never been one to talk about his feelings."
"Oh, he has
n't said anything," Ida assured her, "but you only have to look at him to know he's suffering."
"Maybe it's a sour stomach. His mother's a horrible cook, but she's too miserly to hire someone to cook for her."
"I've tried to convince her to eat at the restaurant, but she insists she has to cook for her family, that it's the only time they spend together."
"She'll never change. Now let me pour you some coffee, and you can tell me what's been happing in town since I left."
"William has been going out of his mind," Ida snapped. "That's what's been happening."
"Owen says business hasn't been good lately. Maybe that's why William's looking worried. Tell him Owen says things will pick up as soon as ranchers find a better-paying market for their cows. He says--"
"It has nothing to do with business, though I don't know how Owen Wheeler can think he knows so much about it."
"Maybe it's his father's health."
"It's not his father, either."
"How do you know?"
"Because he told me. He's come over to my house every night since you left."
Hetta was surprised. William had never wanted to see her every night. She didn't see any reason for Ida to start blushing and looking miserably uncomfortable. It wasn't her fault that William wasn't man enough to accept the end of their understanding without needing a shoulder to cry on.
"He pretends to come to talk business," Ida said. "But he really comes to talk about you. He doesn't understand why you want to live in this ruin." Ida's glance took in the partially rebuilt house and the hot and dusty ranch yard with its neglected corrals and outbuildings.
"It won't be a ruin much longer," Hetta said, bristling. "The house will be finished soon. Then I'll see about getting everything else repaired."
"Why are you building such a big house? William says you bought twice as much lumber as you need."
It seemed that William hadn't confined all his conversation to business and how much he missed Hetta. "Owen says it's cheaper now than it will be when things return to normal."
"William's worried you'll have nothing left for the ranch."
Hetta was beginning to be irritated at William for discussing her affairs with Ida.
"Tell William I'm not out of money yet."
"But you can't possibly get enough money for your few cows to pay for everything."
"Owen's taking my steers to St. Louis. He says I can get ten times what I can at the tallow factories."
Ida lowered her gaze. "William is worried you might be depending too much on Owen's advice. He's been very helpful in some ways, but we still know so little about him."
"He's just helping me with my ranch. I'm not planning to marry him."
"You're not interested in him in that way?"
Hetta couldn't imagine where Ida got the notion she might want to marry Owen. But what confused Hetta was that Ida looked almost hopeful.
"Whatever possessed you to think either of us was interested in getting married? He's not looking to settle down."
"He's spent so much time helping you. People in town are beginning to whisper. Nothing bad," she hastened to assure Hetta, "but you can't expect to live out here with three men and not cause speculation."
"And just what are they speculating?"
"Everybody says Owen's been different since he set up the rustler patrol. He doesn't gamble anymore, and he spends all his time helping you. They're saying he's showing all the signs of getting ready to settle down."
"And they think he's going to settle down with me?"
"You're the only woman he's been seeing."
"Owen's not seeing me. We work together. As soon as everything is fixed, I expect he'll move on."
"That's what worries William. He's afraid you'll set your heart on marrying Owen, only to end up heartbroken."
William wasn't the kind of man to think in terms of broken hearts. That was Ida. Hetta appreciated her friend's concern, but it also made her impatient.
"I haven't set my heart on anything except getting my ranch back in working order," Hetta said.
Hetta knew the words were untrue as soon as she said them. She knew Owen wouldn't marry her, but she was finding that it became a little bit harder each day to imagine her life without him. She hadn't wanted him in her life. She'd done everything she could to drive him away, but she'd come to depend on him in a way she'd never depended on William.
"You can't run this place by yourself," Ida said.
"Once I sell my steers, I'll have money to hire help."
"William says you don't have enough cows for that. He says you still have to worry about rustlers."
"William has said an awful lot. He must spend a lot of time with you."
Ida flushed red. "I've told him not to come so often, but he has no one else to talk with about you. He really is worried sick about you."
"Well, tell him not to be. I'm happier than I've been in a long time. Now tell me all about yourself. What are you doing? Is there any gossip worth repeating?"
"Nobody's talking about much of anything but how bad business is, the rustlers, and the dance coming up in about a month."
"What dance?"
"The merchants decided we needed something to take our minds off our troubles, so they organized a community dance. You'll have to come. You can stay with me. We'll dress up in our fanciest clothes, and you'll stun William by how beautiful you look."
"I doubt I'll have time. There's so much work to do here."
"If you put off having fun until everything's finished, you'll never have fun." Ida glanced uncertainly at Ben, who'd come up to the house with a bucket of mortar. Myrl followed with a load of stones. "Where's Owen?" Ida asked.
"He pulls the stones from an outcropping and shapes them," Hetta said.
"There's no end to his talents."
"He can do just about anything."
"You sure you're not going soft on him?"
Hetta laughed, but it didn't come easily. "If you mean do I like him more than I did in the beginning, yes. If you mean am I hoping to marry him, no. A man like Owen isn't going to marry an ugly woman."
"You're not ugly. Your face has character. You'll be striking one day."
She laughed again, and this time it definitely wasn't easy. "Go back to town and assure William I'm not in the least bit of trouble. How could I be with three men looking after me?"
Ida opened her mouth--Hetta was certain she meant to point out Ben and Myrl's defects--then closed it again. "Remember, you're welcome to move back with me any time. If anything changes--"
"You'll be the first to know. Now it's time for me to go to work." She could hear the muffled sound of Owen's hammer striking stone and the thump of Ben's trowel as he set a stone in place.
Ida got to her feet. "I used to think I understood you."
"I used to think I did, too, but I was trying to be somebody I wasn't."
"Did you tell William that?"
"Yes, but you know men. I couldn't possibly be right as long as my opinion differed from his."
"Are you really happy out here?" Ida asked.
"Yes, I am. I'm a rancher's daughter, Ida. I don't really know how to live anywhere else. William should be glad I discovered that before I agreed to a marriage that would have made both of us miserable."
Ida looked very uncomfortable. "Don't you want to get married?"
"I don't know. Right now I can't think of anything except my ranch."
Ida left looking even more unhappy than when she'd arrived.
"You ought to think about what she said," Ben said.
Hetta had forgotten that Ben was close enough to overhear their conversation.
"About moving back to town?"
"About getting married. Ranching ain't no job for a woman."
Hetta grinned. "Are you trying to propose to me?"
She was sorry she'd teased him when she saw how badly he blushed. "Even if you was foolish enough to develop a hankering after me, you don't need a
cripple for a husband."
"Then who did you have in mind?"
Ben focused his gaze on his work. "Owen."
Hetta couldn't describe the feeling that swept over her. It was as though she'd suddenly sensed danger; every hair on her body stood on end.
"Did Myrl put you up to this?" she asked.
Ben put down his trowel and looked up. "Nobody put me up to nothing. I see the way you two look at each other. It's obvious you were meant to be together. Seems everybody in Pinto Junction knows it, too."
If Ida's words had surprised Hetta, Ben's stunned her. "Why would you think that?"
"Because you're in love with him."
She experienced that strange feeling again. "You're wrong. Besides, he's not interested in me."
"Have you seen him pay a minute's attention to any other female?" Myrl asked. He'd come up with a load of stones in time to hear Hetta's words.
"No, but--"
"Neither has anybody else. He's followed you around like a calf after its ma, working like a field hand and paying the bills, too. If that ain't a man in love, I never seen one."
"He doesn't even like me sometimes."
Myrl rolled his eyes. "Owen is clever enough with his tongue when it don't mean nothing. But if he likes a woman, you'll know it by his actions, not by anything he says."
"I don't understand. You can't mean--"
"There's some things a man can't hide," Myrl said. "Now I'd better stop jawing or he's going to want to know what I've been doing with my time."
Both men had obviously said all they intended to say, but they had set Hetta's mind and emotions into a turmoil. Could Owen like her enough to want to marry her? Did she like him well enough?
She'd hardly formed the last question before the answer came hurtling back with the speed of a bolt of lightning. Yes, she did like him enough to consider marrying him.
That realization shocked her so badly she had to sit down. Surely she couldn't have fallen in love with a man and not have known it. When you felt that strongly about someone, you had to know it. How could she have been so unaware of her own feelings?
She moved through the routine of putting away food and washing up without giving a thought to what her hands were doing.
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